


Traveler's Expense

by Stowaway_Macaw



Series: Dream SMP Fic Series [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Karl Jacobs-centric, Loss of Identity, Reflection, The InBetween - Freeform, Time Travel, Web Series: Tales from the SMP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stowaway_Macaw/pseuds/Stowaway_Macaw
Summary: Karl is back at the Inbetween and finds himself reflecting on his struggles. Later on, he is pulled into reflecting on something much bigger than himself.
Series: Dream SMP Fic Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144112
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Traveler's Expense

The day moved slower than Karl thought it would’ve. Then again, he stopped being able to process the passage of time during his third time jumping. The feel of the air around him had started to feel foreign no matter where he was, but the gentle breeze in the Inbetween was always somehow comfortable. He could feel it and he saw how it occasionally disturbed the leaves of the tree in the center of the courtyard, but it never rustled his hair or blew leaves hard enough so that they’d fall. 

He liked the way the sun felt as well. He could feel the light touch of warmness, but the temperature never changed. He sucked in some of the air as he stared at the stark-white ceiling. He was on the floor, lying face-up after another time jump and inevitably being sent back to this place. He ignored the uncomfortable space in his memory as he continued to stare, eyes unfocused and his entire body relaxed. 

Karl was tired.

As he lay there, unsure if he could bring himself to stand up again, his ears trained on the minimal sounds around him. His ears rang slightly, but he could hear the faint crackle of the wither rose in the pot on the pedestal he knew was there but couldn’t see. He’d been there enough times to know it was there. Every other time, he’d stood up and explored the castle bit by bit. Though the time it took him to stand kept extending until right then.

Karl couldn’t tell what the present was anymore. It seemed irrelevant now that the definition of “present” had changed so many times for him. Could he get up this time? Maybe. Was it even up to him? Maybe not. He sucked in another breath and mumbled to himself, suddenly brought back to the moment when he heard his own voice, spotlighted by how lonely it was.

“At the very least, it’s up to me this time…” And it was. He stood and his skin felt strange in response to the sudden movement after staying so perfectly still for so long. He could feel the fabric of his hoodie and didn’t think twice about the almost silvery-white it was. He’d seen it enough times. 

As Karl moved down the main hall, he paid attention to his footsteps. They were the only thing of significance that he could hear. They were quiet, but compared to the near silence of the Inbetween, they practically echoed throughout the hall. Not really, but if they really did echo then Karl didn’t think it would make a difference. 

Karl swallowed and his throat felt dry, but he wasn’t thirsty. He wasn’t hungry either. It was hard for him to feel much here, but it was there. He just had to look for it. When he first arrived, he didn’t think that his heart was beating, but if he stood there long enough, he’d realize that it was. Just… very, very slowly. He barely had to breathe either, but he did so anyway, even if his breaths were unusually long and shallow. He found himself gasping from time to time when his insides felt too foreign to be his own, much less functioning how they should. 

The sun didn’t burn his eyes, so he would find himself looking directly at it from time to time, the only consequence being that he’d forget to take a breath if he looked at it for too long. 

Still, even with all of the strangeness of this place, he always felt like he was comfortable here. He’d wander around blindly with no inner need to know where he was going. Once he exited and returned to his own time, he’s always be struck with the thought that this couldn’t be good for his mind, but it was only ever when he left. No such concerns existed here. He couldn’t bring himself to feel much, after all. 

Karl was tired.

The moon told him so, but so did the heaviness of his body and the drooping of his head. He found himself by the courtyard tree and, since he was there, sat on one of the swings and let himself sway rhythmically to the gentle wind. His mind was clear, but his thoughts weren’t moving along like they normally would. Slower. More deliberate. He didn’t mind though. He knew he probably should, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Mostly because right now… well…

Karl was tired.

His cheek slumped against the chain of the swing and he let his eyes drift closed. What would happen if he fell asleep here? The question occurred to him suddenly and he would probably normally not want to find out. But now,

Karl was so, so tired.

He felt his mind drift, but as normal, he wasn’t able to tell when exactly he fell asleep. But he did. And he knew he was asleep because he couldn’t feel his own skin. As strange as it was, he always stopped being able to feel his own body when dreaming. It was always a telltale sign.

Windchimes. He could hear them in the distance, a collection of low and mellow rings mixed with the delicate tings of higher notes. Cicadas mixed in and joined the summertime symphony. He smelled yesterday’s rain and a whiff of an aged orange tree that had already borne years of fruit from a time beyond Karl’s own. 

Arid atmosphere suddenly replaced the summer scene and he heard the distant clop of horse hooves. He heard them collide with dry gravel and breathed in the clouds of dust and clay. It made him want to cough, but he heard another man do so first. He smelled the rust of metal and the grungy scent of work and an old family trade, of which a village depended on. The man was tired and Karl could tell. He too was wary and lost for energy, but he could feel the drive they both had in common. For the sake of those they held dear.

But the man was gone soon as well. The rhythmic ticking of clocks and the hiss of steam filled his ears and it was suddenly harder to breathe. Static electricity filled the air and a coppery smell accompanied sudden humidity. In the distance, he heard the creaking of machinery and the constant movement of mechanisms that acted as the internal heartbeat of the city. The land breathed in a way he never expected it to, having replaced the natural breath of the wind with laborious ticking as the earth struggled for breath among the iron and copper shell.

It all kept flying by, times and places and dimensions he never knew existed. Winters and holidays paired with revolutions and creations. Families had their peace, ups and downs, each person’s story twisting together like a beautiful and bittersweet tapestry. A weight pressed on his soul as each of these threads of existence were laid out for him to see. Entire ages were there like they weren’t even on a timeline. Time was all happening at once. Or was it just that it was now possible to see it all for what it was? 

What… what was it?

Suddenly, something else was felt. It felt so foreign but so familiar still. What was it? Eyes opened. He… he had eyes. Right. His body. He has a body. He… who was he? 

He stood. He was in a familiar place. He swallowed thickly and the movement felt like he hadn’t done it in a long time. What even was time? He felt like he’d been underwater for as long as he could remember and surfaced again, only to be plunged right back in. He’d never forget the clarity he felt. 

He felt heavy and stifled. He coughed a weak and breathy cough that sounded so strained that he briefly worried about his ability to keep breathing at all. It all seemed so small. So slow.

He had to think for a moment though. Who was he? Did it matter? No...

‘yes’ a tiny voice he recognized as his conscience whispered. It mattered.

He was…

He was…

He sighed.

He was tired


End file.
